


Crawling back to you

by cthink



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Clubbing, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Michael is drunk, Song fic, calum loves puppies, malum, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:27:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cthink/pseuds/cthink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael was drunk. And usually when Michael got drunk, he had a blast. The problem was, all he could think about was Calum. </p><p>Based on the song All My Friends by Snakehips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crawling back to you

Sure I get lonely sometimes  
All my friends are wasted  
And I hate this club  
Man I drink too much  
Another Friday night I wasted  
My eyes are black and red  
I'm crawling back to your bed.

The pounding bass of the music made Michael cringe, his hearing twisted in deception, too loud and too deep. Everything was a mix of bright colourful lights and then darkness, swallowing up everything surrounding him, distorted and blurred. The heaving heat of bodies grinding up against each other, everywhere, the air thick like a sea of sweat and alcohol. 

  
Michael was dizzy, everything ached and throbbed. Drunk off his ass, to be precise. He felt like he was floating, when in reality, he was being loosely thrown around in a crowd, red hair stuck to his clammy forehead and the taste of vodka on his lips. Even in his bleary state, he could tell his hangover tomorrow was going to be _deathly_. All Michael wanted was to go home. To Calum.

  
The only reason he was at this stupid club was because he'd had an argument with Calum, over...something Michael's drunken mind couldn't remember, and Luke and Ashton had dragged him here to get him to _let go_ and _relax a little_. It'd worked for the most part, but Ashton and Luke were completely wasted, the buzz from the alcohol had worn off, Michael had crashed and now he was just sad all over again.

  
He could just see his friends through the mass, bottles in hand, _hand in hand_ , dancing (if you could consider sloppy jumping as dancing) completely out of time to the awful music. What else had he expected? Sober, Ashton and Luke would never admit they had a thing, but whenever they got hammered you couldn't tear them apart. Michael and Calum had always been a lot more open about their relationship, _especially_ when they were sober. They did everything together, even had a shared apartment. That was where Calum was now. Alone. And Michael was here at a terrible club downtown somewhere, and even though Ashton and Luke were here with him, he still felt more alone than ever. Calum should be there with him.

  
He wanted nothing more than to be back home with Calum. He no longer cared what they'd been arguing about; it was undoubtedly something ridiculous that really wasn't worth it anyway. But Calum hadn't called, hadn't even sent a text. Did he care? Michael wasn't sure. He hoped so. The last thing Michael remembered was storming out after a shouting match, in which Michael had probably said some things he didn't mean and would almost definitely regret later, and going to Ashton's place. Ashton's place was nice, but it wasn't home. Michael missed home. Calum was his home. What if they'd broken up and Michael couldn't remember? No, he'd remember something like that. Definitely. Probably. Maybe. Right?

  
The anxiety and paranoia creeping up on Michael felt like it was choking him; the stuffy air and darkness suffocating him slowly. He couldn't breathe. Tugging slightly at the collar of his shirt to allow himself some room to breathe didn't help in the slightest. It was like he just couldn't force the air into his lungs. Calum. He needed _Calum_.

  
Michael groaned out loud as he swayed back and forth, people shoving him off and continuing to move to the deafening music. He saw Ashton shoot him a confused look, and Luke in turn, but Michael just waved them off with a quick shake of his head. _Big_ mistake; even the smallest shake sent his world spinning and tilting in a million different directions. Michael felt sick. Ashton and Luke were apparently too into it to care.

  
He stumbled blindly through the club, tripping over a couple making out on the floor, pushing off a girl that threw herself at him with what looked sickeningly like vomit down her chin, trying desperately to break through the surge of the crowd. Everything was too hot, too unfocused and surreal. Nothing felt right without Calum by his side. This wasn't Michael. He didn't come to shitty clubs to listen to shitty music and drown his sorrows in alcohol and pills. He stayed at home with Calum, curled up together watching some crappy movie with popcorn that one of them had inevitably burnt, Calum giggling over cute pictures of puppies he found on Instagram, and Michael promising him that one day, he'd buy him the cutest puppy of them all. Of course, that was impossible, because in Michael's opinion, Calum was the cutest puppy of them all, but he promised anyway.

  
He finally burst out into the night, the cold breeze tickling his sweaty skin, making him shiver as his damp t-shirt clung to his back. The cars zooming past and bright lights of the street didn't do much to help Michael's disorientation, but at least he could finally breathe. He sucked the cool air into his lungs like he'd never breathed before. Michael's shaking fingers fumbled with his phone, quickly dialling a cab, shocking himself with how slurred his words were. What would Calum think? Seeing the state Michael was in, he'd probably just slam the door in his face, and Michael wouldn't blame him. Oh well, it was worth a shot.

  
Michael hadn't really been keeping track of time, mostly because the numbers on his phone were all jumbled and didn't make any sense, but the cab seemed to arrive in a matter of minutes. In Michael's daze it really could've been hours, but he was grateful anyway, because he'd left his jacket at home and the windy evening was biting at his pale skin, stinging it red. He told the driver the address quickly, before he forgot that too. The driver just shot him a sympathetic smile, apparently recognising the way Michael was in.  
The whole journey, Michael's heart was racing from the adrenaline. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or both. But Michael just couldn't relax; his foot was constantly tapping, his fingers drumming on his leg. What was he even going to say? That he was sorry? He couldn't even remember why he was sorry in the first place. He just knew he was. They never argued, and Calum didn't get upset easily- neither did Michael, for that matter, so it had to be something serious. What if Calum hated him? He decided not to dwell on that particular thought.

  
But that was the only thing that continued to bounce around Michael's otherwise empty mind, reverberating off his skull and filling him with dread. When the car finally pulled up outside the apartment block, Michael just sat there for a few minutes, refusing to leave the car as he stared up at the building. The driver was patient, but Michael could tell he was more than a little uncomfortable. Michael just couldn't bring himself to move. He was so scared of what he would find that he never wanted to leave the cab. He just wanted to drive off into oblivion and never return. He couldn't lose Calum. Michael was nothing without Calum.

  
Eventually he was forced to leave, but the driver told him it was free of charge. Michael had insisted, but the driver just shot him another look of sympathy and told him to have a nice night. Which was lucky, because Michael didn't actually have his wallet on him anyway. He stumbled blindly into the elevator, pressing the button for the floor he was 99% sure was the right one, clinging to the bar as the lift jolted into motion, the movement threatening Michael's currently delicate stomach. He breathed heavily, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried desperately to calm himself. He needed Calum.  
Michael ignored the looks he got from neighbours as he tripped down the corridor, clammy hands gripping the walls and leaning heavily against them for support. The carpet looked so soft, Michael could've just laid down and fallen asleep then and there. But he had to get to Calum first. Even the dim dingy lighting of the block made Michael's eyes burn; his brain felt like it was going to explode. He didn't realise he'd had _that_ much to drink.

  
Pausing outside the door, he realised that he didn't have his keys with him, but thankfully, Calum had left it open. Michael took that as a good sign; maybe Calum had been waiting for Michael to come home. Maybe. All the lights in the small apartment were off, to Michael's relief, but that meant Calum was likely asleep and hadn't waited up for him. Then again, Michael guessed it was probably way past midnight, so he couldn't blame him, really. It still hurt that Calum had gone to sleep without so much as a text, though. Michael suddenly felt the urge to just leave, back out through the door like he'd never even been there, but no. He couldn't go now. He had to do this. Had to put things right.

  
He trod as quietly as possible through the apartment, despite the dragging of his heels. It was completely silent but for the TV, which was playing quietly in the living room. Michael walked in that direction, to see that it was just some stupid sports programme, and that the living room was a _complete mess_. There were bottles lying haphazardly on the floor and coffee table alike, empty packets of crisps and general mess, all piling up around the sofa. Not enough for there to have been a party, of course- it was all from Calum. The kiwi could eat a lot when he wanted to, especially if he was stressed. From where Michael was standing, he couldn't see anyone in the living room, but edging closer, he noticed a dark shape on the sofa, only just illuminated by the light from the TV. That shape, of course, was Calum, lying on his side curled in on himself slightly, his hand hanging over the edge of the sofa and brushing the carpet, and his head pressed uncomfortably against his chest where he'd ran out of space.

  
He was wearing a t-shirt and boxers, and the apartment wasn't exactly cold, but it certainly wasn't warm enough to be sleeping in just that. Michael cringed when he got a better look at Calum's face; his eyes were red and puffy- he'd almost definitely been crying, and he looked completely drained. Michael had done that, he realised with a rush of guilt.

  
He wobbled through the minefield of glass bottles, scared he would knock one over and wake Calum. Of course, in his intoxicated state he failed completely, cringing when the bottle hit the ground, and a little beer spilt out onto the carpet. He'd have to clean that later. Michael didn't fail to notice Calum jumping out of his skin either, or his sharp intake of breath, but Calum remained still on the sofa, obviously awake but hoping Michael hadn't noticed. Had Michael really pissed him off that much?

  
He shook his foot in an attempt to dry his now soaked sock just a little, but he eventually gave up and just peeled them both off. This time he was more careful as he picked his way through the mess, moving closer and closer to the sofa. Calum still didn't move. With a sigh, he grabbed the blanket from the arm of the couch, and warily sat down next to Calum, before ever so slowly lying down and curling around him, bringing the blanket to lay over the both of them. He felt Calum shiver as he gently laced an arm over the younger boy, but he didn't say a word. Michael shuffled about a bit, before he was completely settled, his legs entangled in Calum's, his chest pressed firm against Calum's back, Michael's arm holding them together tight. Calum let out a tiny hiccup, and shivered again. He was definitely awake; Michael was sure that even through the darkness he'd seen Calum blink a few times.  
"Cal..." He trailed off, unsure of what he was really supposed to say. He knew he should probably apologise, but how do you apologise to someone when you don't know what you have to be sorry for?  "I'm sorry..." Michael cringed at how slurred his words were, and when Calum didn't reply, he took to idly brushing some of the crisp crumbs off of Calum's shoulder. They laid there in silence for a few more minutes, and Michael was scared that Calum had fallen back asleep, but soon a reply came, so quiet Michael had to strain to hear it.

  
"You're drunk." Calum whispered. "You're not really sorry." And Michael had to admit, he was more than a little taken aback by that. Maybe he'd underestimated the seriousness of the situation. Maybe the damage was already done. Maybe he'd gone and fucked it up even more.  
"Of course I am!" Michael reached up to stroke Calum's hair, and it hurt when the kiwi flinched a little. After a while though, he remained still, allowing Michael to pet him softly. "I'm so sorry, Cal. I promise." 

Calum shuffled on the sofa, rolling over to stare up at Michael with wide brown eyes. They were bloodshot and red; Michael winced a little at the sight, but his hand never left Calum's hair, running his fingers through the soft dark curls because he knew Calum loved it.  "Besides, by the looks of it you're not exactly sober either." Michael teased, gesturing to the empty beer bottles strewn across the floor and raising an eyebrow jokingly, but Calum didn't respond.

  
Calum just chewed on his lip as the two stared into each others' eyes, and at this point, Michael was sure his heart was going to explode out of his chest, he was so scared.  "I'm sorry too. It was stupid. I hate arguing with you." Calum finally broke the agonising silence, and Michael let out a breath of relief he didn't know he was holding.  "I love you." Calum murmured as dark eyes fluttered shut, and he curled into Michael's chest, his cheek pressing up against him.

  
Michael's mouth melted into a grin, and he leant down to kiss the top of Calum's head.  "I love you too." He whispered, wrapping his arms around Calum even tighter. They laid there in blissful silence, and while the sofa wasn't exactly the most comfortable of places to sleep, Michael couldn't bring himself to move. It was warm under the blanket next to Calum, almost too warm, but Michael wouldn't change this moment for the world. He was too relieved that Calum didn't hate him; that everything was _okay_.

  
"Mikey..." Calum whispered, and Michael could feel him twiddling his thumbs against Michael's stomach. "Just...one last thing..."  Michael leaned back a bit to get a better look at Calum, blinking blearily at him. "Anything, babe." Michael smiled, moving his hand to caress the cheek that wasn't squished against Michael.  "Will you please just admit that Marnie the dog is cute?"

  
Maybe the argument _wasn't_ as serious as Michael had feared.


End file.
